


A: Apostate

by this is not my name (thisisnotmyname)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Can read alone, Dragon Age cast, a-z oneshots, what am i even doing with my life, what the hell why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 18:26:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8811466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisnotmyname/pseuds/this%20is%20not%20my%20name
Summary: When Seeker Pentaghast looks down upon the prisoner, she briefly wonders on how it is that her life is suddenly flush with apostates.





	

She's gone. Most Holy is gone and Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast is... lost. Leliana is too and for once the Left Hand is as open as the Right. The only survivor of the Conclave is a female elf. The Lady Seeker can tell that she's Dalish from the tattoos on her face. The  _vallaslin_. She knows that they wear them in honor of their gods, but that is only part of what bothers Cassandra. Technically, all mages are apostates now and she didn't need the reminder from Solas. She keeps her annoyance close, visible if only as a reminder that though she is gentler than perhaps Leliana, she is still just as strong. Just as dangerous. 

 

They've sealed the first rift now, though the Breach remains. The prisoner has been awake and preparations to go to the Hinterlands for Mother Giselle are well underway. Pilgrims to Haven have started to trickle in, as the first soft melts of ice in the Spring. Cassandra keeps her eyes on those who come in and out of the gates, even on the Commander, who seems well enough. He is tired, strained, but he does good work with the new recruits and is stronger than he knows. She stands by the training dummies and watches as the Herald and Solas train, sees other mages watching too. Their magic swirls around them, as they mock-battle. Cassandra knows why the Mage Rebellion is what it is, knows why things have come to pass as they have. Not for the first time does she ruminate on what Antony would make of all of this. What here brother would caution her on, or joke with her about. The dwarf comes uncomfortably close to how her brother may have been in another life. In another world. 

 

Still, as she stands above the apostates sparring, the crisp scent of the snow in her lungs and the cool breeze in her hair, Cassandra wonders at just how this is her life now. Watching as these apostates, these mages,  _these people_ try to carve a new place in the world. Try to find new meaning and hope in the chaos that has never really left Thedas, but has bathed them all in that green light. Her musings are cut short as a stray flame flies past her ear. Doesn't hit her, and Cassandra doesn't flinch, but the heat of the flame is still enough for her narrow gaze to tighten even further. The Herald,  _Lavellan_ , has her hand over her mouth and her already wide eyes seem to engulf what she hasn't covered. Solas has also covered his face, and his head is low, but the small shaking of his shoulders has her convinced that he is laughing at her.  _Chuckles was perhaps_ too _appropriate._

 

"Cassandra! I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" Lavellan is waving at her now, as though Cassandra has been stunned past sense.

 

"I am fine, Herald. Perhaps you should practice a little further away from the tents?" Her arms are crossed, and Cassandra knows how stiff and formal she may seem. But it reigns in the Herald more often than not, so she is unwilling to let go of old habits.

 

"Yes Cassandra."

 

They shift a little further down the banks of the river, towards an older pier. Still within sight, but far enough that any more stray spells won't hit the already on-edge soldiers. A disgusted noise escapes her, though already she can feel tendrils of fondness begin to take hold.

 

_Apostates._

 


End file.
